Skyrim Chronicles: Anniversary
by Masterless
Summary: One year after Alduin's defeat, Onyx attends a celebration in Solitude that the people have thrown for him.


"Where will you go now, Jin?"

I pause from the action of locking my cuirass in place and give Serana my full attention. A myriad of emotions washes over me as I get a full glimpse of her sitting up on the bed with only the wrinkled sheets barely covering her modesty.

"I apologize," her eyes glowing sensually with those words, "was I not allowed to use that name so casually outside the boundaries of our pass time, Onyx?"

The first time I laid my eyes on Serana after unsealing her tomb, I've always felt attracted to her infallible and rare beauty—even now with her disheveled hair and sweat glistening skin, I still find her as _perfect_ as the sun when I used to watch it rise from a distance behind the White Gold Tower. The said beauty also enhances as she slides the crimson sheets off of her, showing more of herself. The sheets sliding off her pale skin as she starts walking towards me.

"It's fine," I tell her, finally getting back to putting my Ebony Mail back on, "just not entirely accustomed to it being used by anyone."

As Serana makes her slow and steady steps towards me, she grabs Muramasa along the way and takes it upon herself to study the hilt with that inquisitive expression etched on her face.

"And yet you are accustomed to someone else holding your precious blade?"

"Am I supposed to feel threatened with you holding it, Serana?"

She doesn't respond immediately, instead she stands there holding my blade, letting its length somewhat embrace her naked body. It's arousing to be honest. Seeing Muramasa resting between the form of her bosom, its length running down her nakedness and somewhat covering between her legs—suffice to say it's a tantalizing thought. One that truly seduces the part of me that wants to dislodge the armor I spent the last few minutes putting on just to share the sacredness of Serana's body once again. But alas the last of my gauntlet latches on and I stand there, staring at her, waiting for her to respond one way or another.

"Do I look threatening?" a question that is paired with her biting her lip and clutching my sheathed blade closer to her; sarcasm or seduction, I do not know so I answer accordingly.

"No," I answer with a grin, "but you do look like you are about to allow Muramsa take part on my festivities."

Serana's expression is nothing less of amusement, smiling innocently before shrugging her shoulders. With a cocked eyebrow, Serana slowly eases the sword away from her naked body before finally taking a few more steps closer. Eventually she hands me my weapon and I place it on my belt where it truly belongs. Though for the sake of the moment, I had no qualms with it being a decoration on Serana; it did look 'right'.

"Speaking of festivities," and of course we are going to kill the moment with the same conversation I evaded an hour ago, "is Solitude your next destination?"

I raise a brow at her as she walks towards a table, pouring herself a drink on a chalice before turning her gaze back at me, drinking, while her glowing eyes look for an answer out of me. Sighing, I walk towards her, grabbing the Masque I carelessly dropped on the ground as we were vigorously shed our clothing some time ago.

"And please, if you are going to show yourself for the anniversary, would you at least not wear that abhorrent thing?"

I clutch the Masque by its horns and give it a glance despondently before giving Serana my attention once more. She has taken a gulp of her cup before offering it to me.

"Oh come now," I tease her with my tone of voice as I accept her generosity, "Clavicus Vile would be highly offended by your statement."

"Vile, Boethiah, Azura, Peryite—have I missed anyone that I might offend in your presence?"

"Meridia, which I'm more than aware you aren't a fan of the artifact _she_ gave me. Then we have Dagon's dagger in Whiterun."

Rolling her eyes, Serana takes the cup from me after letting me get a few sips of blood, which in fact felt good after Serana's and my pass time. Taking one more gulp herself, Serana makes her way to slip on a crimson robe, which barely covers her modesty and only accentuates the arousing sight of her.

"I'm sure Molag Bal isn't very happy that Boethiah's champion sleeps with the princess of Volkihar Castle."

The sudden change in Serana's expression and the lack of words towards my statement insinuated that I had said the wrong thing. I stand there for a moment unsure of what to say—right after Harkon's death, Serana and I spent a few minutes that turned into an hour or two talking about everything and nonsensical things. We spoke about the many things that we could do with Harkon dead and with Alduin banished. For a brief moment, she mentioned about the ritual that turned her to what she is now—it's also the same thing that I am now. Fortunately for me, the process was less painful. In fact, compared to what she experienced, it was comforting. I often forget that and my previous statement is a testament of my forgetfulness.

"I apologize."

"No need," she answers immediately. "Speaking of, how are you handling the gift?"

"It's not as bad as you made it sound."

"No uncontrollable hunger? No temptation when surrounded by livestock?"

"No," I pause before retracting my statement. "Well, of course, though I'm not one to lose my inhibition unless provoked."

"Good. That means you can be at Solitude in two days to attend the celebration that the people of Skyrim are throwing for you."

"You are very adamant about me going, aren't you?"

"Does that strike you odd?"

"Partially," I look to the side, "I didn't know you were so keen for me to attend such formalities."

Serana gives me a small smile as she takes the robe's sash and starts tying it around her waist, concealing more of her beautiful body in the process, but again, not by much with how the robe is still loosely fitting. When that deed is done, she once again starts pouring herself another cup of blood.

"Will you go with me then?"

My question seems to put her in a predicament since she stops all actions immediately—eyes wide with shock at such an inquiry.

"The Dragonborn and the Lady of Volkihar? Together at a gathering in dedication for the defeat of Alduin?"

"Why not?" honestly, I didn't know what was so wrong with that.

"It won't take much for someone to realize that the Lady that you are walking side by side with is a vampire, you know. Then you will risk your own gift to be discovered and then—"

"And then they kiss Boethiah's shrine for all I care."

Serana blinks for a few moments before laughing, eliciting a small smile from me as she continues to entertain herself with my response. I have to admit, the idea of Elisif and Falk kissing the shrine of Boethiah is rather amusing, though I was half serious when I said that. Though regardless of the fact, at least I have clarity as to why Serana found it odd that I would ask her to join me.

"Always so abrasive towards others aren't you, Onyx?"

"Well when one banishes the World Eater, I would think I am allowed some grace as to what I decide to do and who I decide to do it with."

I earn yet another astonished expression before Serana shifts back to her grin. Leaning forward and pushing up on her tiptoes, she eases her lips towards mine and I reciprocate; we lock in a full kiss… a bite or two… tongues dancing. It lasts for what seems to be too short of a few minutes until she pulls away—those glowing eyes staring right into mine.

"Go to Solitude, Jin," she tells me, "let the people that you saved enjoy your presence. Be the hero that so many see you to be."

"The hero, you say? You care to give hope to the people of Skyrim, Serana?"

"I care as much as you do," that was a bold statement that seems to hold some weight behind it as I think about it. "Besides, I am nothing like my father."

'Caring as much as I do' can translate to many things. Serana is as cryptic as she wants to be and sometimes it is detrimental. Though at this given moment, I find it rather attracting. With a grin, I slide the Masque over my head despite Serana's disdain with it covering my face.

"It's a good thing you aren't like your father," I say, trying to hold back the laughter of what my words will mean, "other wise that would be the worst bed experience of my life."

It's obvious that Serana didn't know how to respond, as she stands there motionless with eyes wide and her hand twitching slightly as she holds the blood filled cup.

"That was one of the most awkward things you have ever said to me."

I shrug as the sarcasm seemed to have flown over Serana's head. Then I turn around and take my first few steps down. "I'll see you in a few days."

"Does this mean you'll consider going?" Serana shouts as I reach the bottom of the stairs.

"Perhaps," I shout back and reach for the door.

* * *

 _Two days later…_

I was hoping that the noises I heard from outside the gates were just an exaggeration of what is happening inside but to my dismay, the ruckus as it sounds outside is nothing compared to what is going on. Solitude tonight is busy, vibrant, and annoyingly full of people cheering every time I take a step. The walk from the gate, through the market, and towards Bards College (where I was directed to attend by one of the guards) was a slow, LONG, and incredibly busy journey. What would usually take me a few minutes ended up taking close to an hour due to working my way through the crowd who didn't make it easy with the constant bombarding of gratitude and gifts. By the time I find myself in front of the Bards College, my hands are practically full of flowers, wooden dolls carved to represent me, jewelry, and just about everything one can think of to give the 'Hero' of Skyrim as a gift. It would be an embarrassing moment the Night Mother decides to send one of the brothers to fetch me and listen to another contract—the image of the Listener in this predicament isn't exactly the picture one would need to strike fear to the notion of the Brotherhood's existence. Even that fool Cicero, despite his glutton for mockery, holds his own as one of the most insane and deadliest assassin—he doesn't carry flowers, dolls, dragon designed ornaments, or highly crafted eating utensils with both hands as he walks through the crowded streets of Solitude. Simply put, I am starting to regret complying with Serana's request.

"Dragonborn?"

I turn to face the origin of the voice and find myself looking at a Nord woman who is armored and well equipped for battle. If she were another mercenary or some asinine thrill-seeking individual seeking the head of the Dragonborn, then perhaps this ' _mandatory_ ' gathering wouldn't be such a bore after all.

"That's a name I go by. You are?"

"Jordis, my Thane," Jordis gives me a small bow of her head. "Jordis the Sword Maiden."

" _Your_ Thane?"

Jordis nods her head, giving me every act of humility as she can despite her strong presence that she seems to stand for.

"High Queen Elisif has not informed you?"

"I tried my best," speaking of Elisif, I turn towards the top of the steps to see the High Queen there, "however the Dragonborn is very difficult to get a hold of."

Elisif barely catches my attention when we speak in her throne room since she usually wears the unflattering attire that represents her position as 'High Queen'. This time with her dressed for the occasion, I can't help but notice her as a woman—especially when a dress of auburn color adorns her stature the way it does, complimenting her womanly assets quite well. Intricately designed with some gold threads that are weaved systematically on her sleeves, waist, above her chest and paired up with the other stitched designs all over her dress that match the overall color of her clothing, one can truly surmise that it's a dress made for a queen. Of course Elisif also wears her usual circlet with complimenting bangles, which in the grand scheme of things, truly accentuates her royalty as well as her feminine elegance. I suppose she took it upon herself to truly embrace the idea of celebration.

"We are honored that you can make it, Dragonborn," Elisif herself bows her head as if I needed any more formalities for the day. "I see that the people have expressed their gratitude as well."

To Elisif's amusement, she is right. All the souvenirs I have accumulated along the way plainly empasizes her point.

"Jordis, please aid your Thane."

"Of course, your Majesty," Jordis offering her assistance to take some of my gifts away is more than welcome, so I handthem to her. "I shall place them in your new manor. Would you require something else?"

"My new manor? Thane? I'm sorry, I'm confused."

Elisif smiles softly as Jordis starts walking away after a bow of her head. "You are the hero of Skyrim, why wouldn't you be Thane of Solitude? Being Thane also requires you to own Proudspire Manor, which I am more than willing to gamble that you will use to your advantage."

I've had plenty of business in Solitude, but I have to admit I have never truly thought about owning a house here—or a manor for that matter, but I suppose things usually doesn't go as plan.

"It is appreciated," I reply kindly. "I'm sure that it will be put to good use, that much you do not have to worry about."

"Of course. Now come, Dragonborn, let us enjoy the anniversary of your triumph over Alduin."

I smile underneath my Masque at the thought, though I'm not much for exuberance when it comes to celebrations such as these. Defeating Alduin became my destiny and it was something that made me feel complete. A journey that forced me to be a person that was worth more than what my past made me out to be. A hero was never something I truly had in mind, but I suppose that is what I am now when I deterred the World Eater from doing what he was resurrected to do. While those thoughts are in my mind, Elisif leads me to the College's most renowned celebration space where citizens are also enjoying themselves. Some enjoying themselves a bit too much compared to others; I would guess that drinking is heavily involved for those acting like complete fools and utterly unable to grasp the concept that the person whom they are speaking to are right in front of them and not across the city. Though in the other hand, I suppose one would have to speak louder with how much is going on and suffice to say, I'd rather hear 'too loud' talking than what the bards started singing as soon as they saw me.

 _"… I tell you, I tell you the Dragonborn comes!"_

I sigh to myself. It may not be a terrible tribute, but Boethiah forbid if I hear someone who sings it that will actually soothe my mind rather than fill it with embarrassment.

"Others say that the helmet you wear is an actual artifact from the Daedric Prince of Power," well at least Elisif speaking to me gives me something to tear myself away from hearing the clichéd song.

"What others have been saying are correct, High Queen," I answer as I slide off the helmet, "it is Clavicus Vile's gift to me."

Her reaction is nothing short of being appalled. That said reaction enhances as I nonchalantly hand her the Daedric Artifact that was once decorating my head, which she quickly takes a step back, evading the slight touch from the helmet's reach.

"By the Divines! The Daedric Princes are entities that we should _not_ be tampering with so lightly, Drgaonborn!"

"I've been wearing this artifact for over a year now," I momentarily reminisce the moment I received the Masque, "I doubt I've been taking it so lightly."

"There are stories about what that Masque and the betrayal and bloodshed it had caused."

"There are stories everywhere of bloodshed and betrayals, High Queen," my eyes are still fixated on the hollow face of Vile's gift, "my own existence carries much horror than you would be able to fathom, and yet here I stand in your kingdom as an honored guest with songs being sung about him."

She pauses for a second, allowing the weight of my words carry before speaking again. "Regardless, you should be careful of the forces you ally yourself with."

I had an inkling in me to perpetuate the argument, though doing so would only lead to time wasted that I would regret later on. So I simplify my response accordingly. "I'll keep your words in mind."

The answer didn't quite settle correctly within Elisif, obvious by the way she is staring at me. I'm not surprised with the way she reacted, quite honestly. Daedric Princes and their artifacts are usually detested. If I were any less than the _Dragonborn_ I'd probably have her guards pointing their blades at me.

"See to it that you do that, Dragonborn," she finally says after a few seconds of awkward silence, "in the mean time, do enjoy the celebration."

Enjoy the rest of the celebration? I could chuckle at that, but I abstain from doing so and merely return the gesture of nodding my head before watching Elisif walk away as she no doubt will head back to the Blue Palace. Soon she completely disappears behind her ever so friendly Housecarl and the two of them fade away into the crowd. I stand there for a few moments contemplating what I should do. The whole time I barely noticed that the people are all chanting the Dragonborn Comes song, which of course almost pushed me to roll my eyes and leave completely—Serana and her requests, quite peculiar at times and I wonder why I agree to them. Well, here I am now… what's a few hours of this, right? Walking over where the tables are set up with some of Tamriel's finest drinks, I take it upon myself to pour a cup and carry on with some of what is expected of a hero to do on his celebration. Of course the process of just getting myself a drink wasn't exactly as simple as it sounds; had to go through the adoring public and all of their gratitude. Perhaps I should have just kept my helmet on so it would have been easier to hide my agitated expression.

* * *

 _A few days later…._

"I wasn't lying to Elisif when I told her that my new Manor would be highly appreciated," I tell General Tullius as I continue to adjust the Dwemer armor on the mannequin.

"Indeed," he replies, "and you made haste on getting all of your treasures in here."

"These aren't _all_ of my treasures, Tullius."

The Imperial stops for a moment from curiously peeking at what resides inside each crate as I said those words. He was lucky enough to have touched a few docile armor sets and weapons (ones with no enchantments), though I did warn him about a certain crate that holds more than a few volatile ones. The astonished look in his eyes says it all though at what he thought about my last statement.

"Did you honestly believe these are all of my souvenirs?"

"I had more than enough reason to believe that it was," his head tilts upwards, reacting from the sounds coming from both the second and the third floor. "Jordis and the hired workers have had their work cut out for them the last day and half carrying things from the gate."

"It would have taken less time if you allowed my Khajiit friends to help, but," I pause, grabbing the greaves for the right leg, "wouldn't want to create tension for brining in suspicious cat folks inside the gates now would we?"

"The High Queen will be pleased with your compliance."

"Indeed," with the right leg of the mannequin fully armored, I stand up, dusting my hands before turning my full attention to the General of the Imperial army. The agitation on my face must be obvious as he stops peeking into the next crate. "What do you want, Tullius? I'm sure you aren't here to ask how I'm about to furnish all three floors of this Manor?"

Understanding the weight of the moment, Tullius clears his throat and pulls out a folded piece of paper.

"Ulfric is taking full advantage of the situation. What we had given up from the truce may not have been the best choice."

Why am I not surprised that this is going to be about the Civil War?

"As long as Alduin was defeated, any choice was as good as any."

"Alduin has been defeated for a year, Onyx. Now we must see to it that the usurper is dealt with once and for all in order for us to keep the peace."

"Then deal with it," I respond harshly, "the affairs of the Civil War has never been my concern. I made that _very_ clear a long time ago."

"Yes you did, but would the Hero of Skyrim ignore the need of Tamriel who are suffering because of the usurper's hunger for power?" Tullius offers me the folded up piece paper which I stare at with suspicion. "This was a letter from one of the citizens of Riften, which Ulfric now rules thanks to the deal we all had to comply to in order for you to trap that Red Dragon—one might I add you ended up letting go."

I stare at the piece of paper, barely acknowledging that smart aleck remark about Odahviing's release. He won't understand why I had to do it so I won't waste my words with it. The note and what the contents inside might say does have my attention… in more ways than one.

"Read it and think about it," Tullius turns around and starts making his way towards the door. "You know where to find me when you made your decision. Though I'm sure you don't need me to tell you this that your choice in the matter will make an outcome. Best you make one soon."

My _choice_ … make one _soon_ … think about it… _decisions_ …

I take a few minutes to stand motionless, staring at the door even if Tullius had long been out of my sight. Part of me wants to congratulate him for having the testicular fortitude to give me some kind of hidden ultimatum right in my face. I'm half amused and somewhat agitated, though I should hardly let the event evoke any kind of shock value since I already knew that having a place in Solitude means I will be _that_ much easier to get a hold of. Elisif making me the Thane of Solitude was a decision that she didn't make on her own accord or her own wits. No. That woman definitely had Tullius speaking in her ear. I took it willingly for the reason that perhaps it wasn't so… but clearly I was wrong.

A year after Alduin's defeat and the chores of being a 'hero' has yet to truly vanish. Is this what entails to being the Hero? After an audible sigh, I unfold the piece of paper and start reading and it doesn't take long until I decide that at the very least I can end this Civil War for the sake of putting that asinine Ulfric out of his miserable existence once and for all.

But I can only imagine what celebration will befall on my lap and the strings that are attached with it a year after Ulfric's head are off his shoulders.

 **End.**


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